


Undying Hope

by caringis_notanadvantage



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Coping, F/M, M/M, Minor Character Death, Post Reichenbach, text fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 13:33:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/687542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caringis_notanadvantage/pseuds/caringis_notanadvantage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been a year.<br/>I should be happy.<br/>I always have milk now,<br/>And there’s never a head in the fridge.<br/>But there is also no violin,<br/>Or any cases.<br/>-	JW</p><p>                                                                                                                                                     Number does not exist</p><p>John tries to cope with the loss of his best friend through texts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Undying Hope

It’s been three months.

I miss you, you bastard.

-       JW

 

Number does not exist

  

The text alert made John’s heart speed up, the hope bubbling within him, a voice in the back of his head whispering that it had all been a nightmare, soon _he_ would be there in all his dramatic coat flaring glory.

 

Yet.

 

John knew that it was too good to be true.

 

As soon as he had read the automatic text, a bout of emptiness overcame him, but only for a second and then…

 

Pain.

 

A crippling rush of pain that made him stop breathing.

 

For a moment everything stopped, even his heart.

 

Then it started back up, as if nothing was wrong, as if his best friend had not died, as if John had not died a bit himself.

 

Breathe in.

 

He’s dead.

 

Breathe out.

 

He’s dead.

* * *

 

Five months since I last set

foot in baker st.

I wonder what the dust would tell

you, seeing as you find it so bloody eloquent.

-       JW

Number does not exist

 

 

The small apartment John had acquired shortly after realising that he could not return to 221b rang with silence.

 

A silence so loud that it almost drowned out the quiet ‘beep’ from his phone.

 

Almost.

 

The hope still surged and dropped.

 

The pain still hit him, but not as hard.

 

His heart did not stop nor did his breath catch.

 

The pain had slowly become a part of John Watson, tightly interwoven into every cell that made up his entire being; it had happened so slowly that John had not noticed. So slowly that John was slowly forgetting how he had once been without the pain, without the tears, with the missing piece of his heart.

 

John was broken.

 

* * *

 

It’s been a year.

I should be happy.

I always have milk now,

And there’s never a head in the fridge.

But there is also no violin,

Or any cases.

-       JW

 

Number does not exist

 

‘I know that!”

 

The shout should have filled every corner of the quiet apartment, yet it was the broken whisper that followed, which managed to squeeze into every nook and corner, until there was nothing but gloom and grief to be found.

 

“Don’t you think I know that?”

 

The sound of a phone dropping to the floor was followed by a gut-wrenching sob and then another and then another.

* * *

 

I went on a date.

Her name is Mary.

And it was … Nice.

-       JW

 

Number does not exist.

 

Hope blossoms.

 

Hope disappears.

 

And yet for the first time in 14 months, John did not only feel ever-present pain over the realisation that, yes, Sherlock was gone. This time the pain was mixed with something John had never expected to feel again.

 

Happiness.

* * *

 

I wonder what you could deduce from me.

Would my eyes tell you that I had a long shift

At the clinic?

My hands that I typed up a blog entry and then

Deleted it?

My smile that she might be the one?

-       JW

 

Number does not exist

 

6 months of dating, laughter and happiness.

 

6 months of understanding, crying and mending.

 

In the span of those six months, John had moved out of his apartment and into Mary’s. There was no fuss, no big conversation. It had simply happened because it had felt right.

 

Mary knew about the texting, not because John had told her, but because of the sadness that would appear in John’s eyes when he read the texts, a sadness that only ever appeared in connection to a certain consulting detective.

 

 

Mary never mentioned it.

* * *

 

I bought a ring.

I know, I know.

Sentiment.

God, I can almost hear you scoffing.

But, I wish you were here.

If for nothing more than to hear you

Sneer and tell me what a fool I am.

Do you think she’ll say yes?

-       JW

 

Number does not exist.

 

A man needed his best friend at certain points in his life.

This was one of those.

 

John needed Sherlock, because even though Sherlock prided himself upon being a sociopath, on being able to distract himself from his feelings, he was John’s best friend.

 

That was all John needed.

 

A friend.

 

Someone to tell him something stupid, or in Sherlock’s case, something incredibly clever that would spin his head and make him rethink everything he had ever thought, he knew about the world.

 

He needed the distraction, because in less than two hours he was going to ask Mary Morstan to marry him.

* * *

 

This is supposed to be the happiest day of my life.

Yet…

All I can see is the empty space.

Next to me in the church

The missing, robotic speech

Where you would try to be nice

And fail miserably.

You were supposed to be here.

-       JW

Number does not exist

 

“John.”

 

The phone was slipped into his pocket and a fake smile was plastered across his face as he turned to look at Mary, this was his wedding day, there was time to fall apart later.

 

“Yes, dear?” his voice cracked slightly, portraying the pain that he was trying so hard to hide. A small hand caressed his cheek, wiping away a stray tear that had escaped his tight control.

 

The small, sad smile coupled with an understanding look was the only answer he received.

* * *

 

She’s ill.

Dying.

How come I didn’t notice?

-       JW

Number does not exist

 

He had been blinded.

 

Blinded by the happiness that had unexpectedly showed up in the middle of his all consuming grief. 

 

He had been so blinded that he had missed all the signs; the fatigue, the loss of weight and the pain she had hidden so well.

 

Now there was nothing to be done. Words such as ‘terminal’ and ‘stage 5’ went round and round inside his head.

 

_“I am sorry, Dr Watson.”_

_“We’ll make sure that she’s comfortable.”_

 

The pain and the loss that he had spent the last thirty months trying to hide, to forget, were back.

 

 

The black wave of sadness was slowly pulling John under, but this time there was no one there to bring him back, to save him from drowning.

* * *

 

I needed you today.

Even though you would have

Been horrible.

I needed that.

-       JW

Number does not exist

 

He loosened his black tie in a hurry, having felt as if it had been choking him throughout the whole ceremony and reception.

 

He carelessly dropped the cane before he sat down in the chair.

 

The limp was back.

 

The pain was back.

 

There was no crying.

 

No yelling.

 

John Watson was numbed with grief, and as he sat there in the empty apartment that was once filled with a wife and love, he realised that this was it.

 

This was the end.

 

 

He was not going to survive this.

* * *

 

I wish I could yell at you.

For lying.

For leaving… For dying.

I guess, I won’t have to wait that much

Longer for that.

At least I hope so.

I would be gravely disappointed

If the afterlife was only a myth.

-       JW

 

Or you could come to Baker st.

And yell.

Seems easier and less deathly

-       SH

 

The clack of a dropping phone was the only sound to be heard in the apartment.

 

A sound that was then followed by hurried footsteps down a flight of stairs and a door being slammed shut.

 

In the quiet, empty apartment an abandoned phone could be found next to a forgotten and unneeded cane.

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this very quickly with tears in my eyes and a big lump in my throat.  
> I apologise for any grammatical mistakes, seeing as I never really had anyone look at it.  
> I hope you enjoy this little one shot.  
> My heart is still a little broken.


End file.
